Fix Me Like Your Broken Promises
by marilicerene
Summary: The watch had been a present, but now, it was nothing but the reminder of a bittersweet past and a future he would never have again. "If it's ever broken, bring it to me and I promise I'll fix it for you," he'd said, but Misaki should've known better. Saruhiko left. Time passed, and the wound got easier to hide, but it still existed, because no one would be there to fix it anymore.


**Note: **Likely not as good as the last one, but thanks for clicking it anyway. Intended symbolism and stuff.

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**Fix Me Like Your Broken Promises**

_(MiSaru)_

* * *

The watch had been a present, but now, it was nothing but the reminder of a bittersweet past and a future he would never have again.

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

"Awesome!"

Misaki couldn't help but to say it over and over again as he pressed every button on the PDA watch, marvelling at the holographic screen that popped up every time he did so and how he could adjust its size with his fingers just like on an actual PDA.

"So awesome! It's like something a sentai member would wear!"

Saruhiko made a snarky comment at that, which he ignored, and then began criticizing his own work like he always did, saying something about terminals and the like that Misaki couldn't understand (but pretended to). "It's not complete. I'll work on it some more later, but for now, it will have to do."

He looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, turning away from Misaki's gaze. "...Do you like it?"

"Like it? I love it!" Misaki answered eagerly. "Hey, is it waterproof? Shockproof? What if I damage it?"

"I did the best I could, but it's not completely immune to your clumsiness," Saruhiko teased, smirking a little, the nervousness on his expression gone now that Misaki had praised it. "But don't worry. If it's ever broken, bring it to me and I promise I'll fix it for you."

"Thank you, Saruhiko!" Misaki grinned and tackled him into a hug. "You're the best!"

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

_If it's ever broken, bring it to me and I promise I'll fix it for you._

As always, Misaki had taken those words to heart; so he never really took care to make sure the watch didn't get damaged or anything. Saruhiko would be there, Saruhiko would always be there, and he'd fix it for him. After all, he promised, right?

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

He should've known better. Saruhiko left.

Saruhiko left and all Misaki could do was to pack up everything he _(they) _owned in that tiny little apartment full of suffocating memories and take them away with him to the empty one-bedroom that he'd just rented. Alone.

And the watch was just _lying_ there, untouched, on top of the coffee table, mocking Misaki with all of the memories and he just...snapped. He grabbed it in a crushing grip, raising it above his head with every intention to smash it against the wall until it shattered into pieces along with all of Saruhiko's empty promises.

But he couldn't.

Because there was no one around to fix it if he broke it this time.

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

Time passed, the wound got easier to hide. People thought he'd healed, and the watch stayed on his wrist. No one knew how he kept it safely under lock and key before he fell asleep, never turning it off in case a certain call that he'd been waiting for that never came finally did. No one could've guessed how he checked it over and over again, every night; to make sure it didn't have even a single scratch on its surface.

Because no one would be there to fix it for him. So he just had to make sure it never got damaged.

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

The thugs had him in chains.

Relatively easy to break – Misaki already had a fire starting behind his back, slowly burning the metal that tied his hands together without the gloating idiots noticing anything. They were saying something about how they'd finally be able to take down HOMRA now that they had its vanguard, and Misaki resisted the urge to sneer. What a joke. Yatagarasu would not go down that easily.

But it seemed there was someone among them who was slightly less dim-witted than the others, whose eyes narrowed at Misaki's movements. Misaki immediately put out the flame, trying to keep his expression blank as the thug walked around to check his hands.

"Hey, hey, what'cha got there, kid?" the man slurred, and Misaki cringed at his onion breath until he felt a greasy hand _touch his PDA watch._

"Let go!" he roared, roughly kicking the man away with his free foot, sending him flying even though he was bound.

And then he realized his mistake; now the thugs would take notice of the watch. "Well, well, it seems like this little thing is pretty important, is it?" their leader smirked, nodding at a few of his minions to hold Misaki down in case he attempted anything. "Ah, I've seen 'im use it before. It's a phone or somethin', ain't it? Must cost a pretty penny, too..."

"_Don't_ touch it," Misaki warned, but the thug ignored him, yanking the watch off of his wrist.

First, the strap broke.

Then, Misaki heard a sickening _crack_.

The leader had stomped it underfoot.

And all Misaki could see was red.

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

When he regained control of his powers, everything around him had been burnt to a crisp, except for the watch. He scrambled for it, but it was too late. The screen had cracked and a few buttons had fallen off. All of that care to make sure it didn't get damaged...all for nothing.

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

"What do you mean you can't fix it!?" Misaki demanded, but the man behind the counter at their local repair shop only shook his head in apology.

"I'm sorry, Yata-kun. But I've never seen such a model before. Is it someone's invention? I don't know of any companies that produce—"

"Never _mind _all of that," Misaki growled. "Just. Please, I'll pay you anything, just try to fix it!"

"I'm sorry," the man repeated. "I really don't know how."

Misaki could feel something stinging in his eyes, so he angrily swept the watch off the counter and stomped away before anyone could see him cry.

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

_If it's ever broken, bring it to me and I promise I'll fix it for you._

What a joke, Misaki sneered, what a stupid _lie_; and he was even stupider for believing it in the first place. Sloshing the drink in his hand, he brought it to his lips and gulped it down, grateful for the buzz that kept the thoughts out of his head. The watch lay on the counter next to him, still in pieces, still broken, and no one would ever be there to fix it again.

"Get me another."

"Sir, don't you think you've had enough—"

"I _said _get me another!" Misaki snarled, and that was enough to send the bartender scurrying to fill his glass. Kusanagi-san would give him hell for causing trouble (and drinking, since he was underage) but for the moment, he didn't give a fuck. All he wanted was to forget that he was broken (_it _was broken?) and that no one was there to fix him – it. Whatever.

"Fancy seeing _you _here, Mi~sa~ki~," and for a moment he thought that voice was simply in his head, until a familiar hand daintily placed itself on the counter and a weight settled on the stool next to his. Misaki smirked bitterly; what a fucking joke. Fucking _ha-ha_, universe. His life must be _so _amusing to it right now.

"...Fuck off, Saruhiko," he said, in a voice softer than he'd have liked it to be, had he been sober.

"Why are you drinking when you're underage?"

"I'm older than you."

"And I'm not here to drink."

Misaki finally deigned to _look _at Saruhiko, swallowing a lump in his throat when he noticed that he wasn't in uniform. He was dressed casually (how can a man walk in heels like that anyway) and oh-so-fashionably (that sweater was exposing way too much skin and how could he feel comfortable in it) and Misaki could get a faint smell of cologne or something and all of that could only mean one thing. "I'm on a date."

Right. That.

Fucking _hilarious_, universe.

"Then go hang out with whoever it is and quit bothering me, traitor," Misaki said through gritted teeth.

Saruhiko smirked. "I'm not going anywhere. If you don't want to see me, _you _leave."

"Fine!" Misaki snarled, slapped some money onto the counter and stomped away without a single glance back.

He didn't even realize what he'd left behind, didn't see a pair of icy blue eyes widen at the sight of it, didn't see a hardly perceptible clenching of fists and a hesitant hand reaching out to grab the object and pocket it.

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

"Kamamoto, call my phone."

"Yata-san, what—"

"_Fucking _call my phone, fatass, I can't find it!"

"R-Right!"

HOMRA was used to seeing Misaki angry, but to see him _panic_, that was a whole new experience.

"Yata, are you sure it wasn't at home?" Totsuka asked concernedly, and Misaki paused in his frantic overturning of every object in the bar looking for his PDA watch. Kusanagi would've choked him had he been there.

"No! I checked _everywhere_, it just wasn't there! _Kamamoto_, are you calling me!?"

"I am!" Kamamoto assured him. "It's obviously not in the bar, Yata-san."

"Did you go somewhere last night?"

"I don't remember! I don't remember anything from last night, I was pretty drunk!"

"Alright, well, calm down," Totsuka said, in as soothing a voice as he could form. "I'm sure it'll turn up some time. We can put up a notice or something..."

"That _won't _work!" Misaki cried, finally collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion. "First it was broken, and now it's gone...it's...it's gone, forever, isn't it?"

Totsuka gave him a sad smile and gently pulled him into a hug.

"...You'll find a new one."

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

Might as well accept it, Misaki decided. It's gone, he's gone, everything's gone and broken and no one will fix anything, no one _can _fix anything; might as well give up and accept it. So he thanked everyone in HOMRA for helping him look and apologized to Kusanagi about messing up the bar with the biggest fake smile he could muster up before dragging his steps back home.

. * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * . * .

There was a box on his doorstep.

Misaki blinked, wiping away his tears in case they were making him see things, but it was still there. Carefully, he took it in his hands, looking around to make sure it was really his. A note slipped out. Misaki unfolded it carefully. Inside was just a single name, _Misaki_, that had been printed out so he wouldn't be able to tell who it was by the sender's handwriting.

He didn't open it until he was inside, and when he gently removed the tissues, all he could do was stare at what was in it.

His watch.

His PDA watch, good as new, complete with the strap and the buttons and everything.

His hands trembled as he slid down the wall, the tears falling down again as he clutched the precious, precious thing in his hands, close to his heart; the only reminder he had left of the person he once loved, and still did, and always would.

_If it's ever broken, bring it to me and I promise I'll fix it for you._

"Thank you, Saruhiko," he choked out. "...You're the best."

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References to the Lost Small World previews translated by trashbunny on Tumblr.


End file.
